And I discovered there is something more tiresome than somebody who wants to stop you in your tracks . . . and it’s someone who gets lippy and sarky because you are too busy to stop what you’re doing and take part in their survey.

“Excuse me, have you got a couple of minutes . . .”, the young woman asked as I marched past a supermarket in the hope I would be home in time to watch a famous England cricket victory (I wasn’t).

The fact that I was almost breaking into a run was perhaps a clue that I was in a rush and, therefore, not a suitable target.

But it obviously wasn’t enough, so I spelled it out: “No, I’m sorry, I’m really in a rush.”

Why the hell was I apologising?

Silly me.

The task she had taken on may have been a thankless one, but dealing with rebuffs – even non-apologetic ones – is a very big part of that particular job. Believe me, I know – because I’ve been in a similar position myself.

But it turned out my would-be inquisitor hadn’t finished her “Excuse me, have you got a couple of minutes” question – which, from 10 yards away, I heard ended with an indignant and stroppy “. . . to let me finish my sentence?”

Silly woman.

What next – a cold caller phoning in the middle of a Cup Final (or a decent episode of Coronation Street, if we ever get one of those again) and then complaining because you think there are more important things than talking about your gas supplier?

Perhaps this perfect stranger who seemed so put out should alter her approach – just in case the next person she berates for not stopping is en route to a funeral.

I used to feel sorry for people conducting polls and surveys in the street – but the sympathy is wearing thin.